“I do find myself drowsily inclined,” said the man. “The cold—the long fast—the many hours’ wandering—I own I shall be glad of a moment’s rest, little one. Let us stop here a few minutes.”
And he would have leaned against the trunk of one of the nearest trees skirting the forest track; but the child exclaimed vehemently,—tugging at his hand: “No, no! you must not rest. Anything but that! Rouse yourself! Come on, come on! Here, take me up in your arms, and carry me for a little way. The exertion will do you good, and the warmth of my body will help to unnumb you. Lift me up; be quick!”
The man laughed, but obeyed her peremptory order. There was such an air of decision in all she said and did,—as if it were the only right thing to be said or done,—that it was difficult to resist her commands. In the present instance, the course she had appointed was certainly the best that could have been hit upon for averting the threatened danger.
The effort of raising her helped the man to throw off the overpowering sensation of drowsiness that was fast seizing upon him; and when she was in his arms, she nestled close to him, and hugged him around the neck. She was a slight child of her age, so that she was not inconveniently heavy; yet, had she been even heavier, the man, though unaccustomed to bear such weights, would have willingly gone on carrying her.
“Do you know, I have just such a little girl of my own,—a little daughter,—perhaps a year or two younger than you, with whom I was going to spend the Christmas Day, when, owing to an accident, I became lost in the forest. I should like my little girl to thank you for your care of her father. I wish she could see you. What say you to coming with me to my home, and making friends with her?”
“I should like it very much; but you live far from here, and I must not let anything interfere with my journey to my father.”
“But my home—at least, the place where my little girl now is—lies all in your way. You must pass it going to your father. We’ll journey together, as far as we can. Our first concern is, to get back to your friendly peasant woman’s hut, recruit our strength, and afterward to devise some means of getting on. Perhaps she can provide us with a guide.”
“Trust to me, I’ll guide you,” said the child.
He laughed but made no reply.
“Now you’ve got over your drowsiness, you can set me down again,” she resumed.